The Adventures of Save-the-Universe Man and His Trusty Ghost Pal
by Duyouk
Summary: Paxton Fettel tells the story of the adventures he has with his brother, Point Man. Even though the title is meant to be more about Point Man, Paxton felt he just needed something that would catch the attention of you, dear reader. Read on, if you dare. (I'm not even sure what this is. It's really scary and I do not recommend reading it.)


For most of my life, I had no regard for anyone but myself and my mother. I hated my abusive grandfather more than anything, and my brother was - and still totally is - a mute simpleton who was always trying to be the hero.

Wanna know why he was a simpleton? Well, lemme tell you while I put a piece of tobacco in my mouth and chew on it as I speak in the voice of Simon Wheeler. If you don't know who Simon Wheeler is, you obviously haven't read enough Mark Twain. Ahem!:

Y'see thish-yer Point Man as they call 'im was ev'ry bit o' failure a feller did see! Ain't do nothin' right at all. Ain't been able to make a psynectionajigger wit' his momma! Man couldn't ev'n shoot a gun right proper! Y'see I was always th' smarter one with all the brains n' psy-cho powers n' such with even the psychonectioner wit' my momma! I was the p-e-r-f-e-c-t one while my lil dimwit ol' bruth'r was king o' the rejects, heehee!

Aft'r some years or so, I din't think he'd be able to do a thing but he did, alright! He done made a man of 'imself! Joinin' military, succeedin' in everything, join speci'l squads!

T'was too bad thish-yer Point Man gone an' huntin' me down the way he did. Shot me right 'ere in the face! Right up 'ere, mid o' foreheader, point blank! 'Course, this right after he fig'urd out I was his flesh n' blood.

Anyway, long story short, my incredibly **_lame_** insolent older brother joined a special squad to hunt me down and kill me. What, you really thought I was going to keep up the Simon Wheeler facade? You're completely out of your mind. Off your rocker, mate. Off ya rockah.

So, I'm dead. I'm sure you've figured that out by now... because I'm Paxton fluck-flockin' Fettel. As I take off my cowboy hat and throw that disgusting tobacco out the window, I wonder why I'm even telling you this story.

Oh, yes! Now I remember.

Because I frick-fracking want to.

Oh, and swearing here is forbidden. It's horrible and I cannot digest my food properly at the hearing of the several unforgivables. They also make me gassy. Like, REALLY gassy.

I make ghost poots, okay?

Get the duck-flob over it.

Anyway, I'm actually here with my brother right now. We're on a mission to destroy a beacon on Mars that was supposedly set there by alien nazis at least 3,000 years ago. Trust me, you do NOT wanna look at these guys. We have pictures of them. They have... ugh... female reproductive organs on the outside of their crotches and male reproductive organs on their faces. I like to call them Poodles.

Please, don't make me remember them again! Oh god, I'm getting gassy! Oh! Oof! **_Knch_**! Gah!

...

Ohhhh... worst poot of my life.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand.

My brother and I had teamed up after he rescued our little sibling. I was still alive, of course. Well, in the sense that a ghost would be alive. You can never truly kill a ghost... unless you call those butthole Ghostbusters. Those guys are ratchet as can be, tramping all over my swag...

So yeah, being the swaggiest ghost around, I volunteered for the space thing, and brother just HAAAAAD to copy me and do the same. What a copy-cat moron. Can't he do anything for himself?

I'm not even sure how they were able to see me or why they hired a ghost for a space program. They really must have no idea what they're doing. Dag flabbit, NASA! Don't make me go all diddly-darn-doodly Ned Flanders on you!

So, we were put in a spaceship with a certain song about starships being meant to fly with our hands up and touching the sky in the background... I'm telling you, NASA does some strange things when preparing for a launch.

With our Nicki Minaj music montage playing in the background, NASA had us all set for the launch.

"TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX..." Dr. Paperflowers counted down, until Dr. Duckrectum decided to RUIN EVERYTHING.

"THREE-TWO-ONE-GO!" he screamed, launching me and my brother into space. My brother screamed a peed a little, and I was pooting hardcore all the way!

I'm sorry, this story is called Mr. Save-the-Universe-Man and His Trusty Ghost Pal, but I just needed a clever title. It's mostly about me, the Ghost Pal. Unless I let my brother write a chapter...

Pfft, as if. He can't type as fast as me. Wanna know why? Well, it's because I'm...

G

L

A-M

O

R

O-U-S, yeah

We're flyin' first class, up in the sky

Poppin' champagne, livin' the life

In the fast lane, and I won't change

By the glamorous, ooooh the flossy, flossy

Uh-huh, that's me. The glamorous one. Did I ever mention how jealous my brother is of me? No? Well, I'll mention it now. He's jealous. He's jealous because I'm THE COOL ONE.

Speaking of the mute lunatic, he was actually the one piloting our spacecraft, so I'm going to give him credit for that. At least he was being a least a little bit useful on this space trip.

We landed on Mars in less than 2 Earth months, which was, I dunno, three seconds in space? I'm not a rocket scientist, don't pester me with these space questions.

The Poodles were already there, and NASA (along with the United Nations) wanted us to make peace with them so they can safely remove the beacon, but I just couldn't handle it. They were so hideous and grotesque that I could not even breathe as I vomited all over myself inside my space suit. Why I needed a space suit, I will never know.

The pooting came after the vomiting. Apparently, pooting after vomiting is a sign of disrespect among the flabber-nabbin' Poodles, sooooo they began shooting at us. My brother, attempting to be the hero of the story, shot back at them with some futuristic lazer rifle. I don't know what it is, I didn't bother reading any of the other files, despite them being marked as "ESSENTIAL INFORMATION" in all caps.

I couldn't stand to look at the ugly things anymore and picked up a gun it dropped and shot one. There were at least six hundred of them. I'm pretty sure I could take them all out on my own, considering I'm the greatest ghost ever.

Unbeknownst to me, the gun was some kind of transforming thing because the Poodle turned into an actual poodle, like the dog. A poodle. Why this happened, I will probably never know, until NASA pulls the gun apart.

Man, I could be making history with all of this if I left right now. Abandoning my brother was the only thing I've ever wanted to do. But since mother was gone, I didn't know who would ever willingly change my Pooters.

Pooters are diapers.

I poot my pants a lot.

As I turned a bunch of Poodles into poodles, I could have swarn I saw my brother kiss one of those awful things and I started to poot and vomit at the same time. I felt a rush of pain and terror in my bowels and had to get back onto the spaceship.

I passed out shortly after, laying in my beautiful stink. I woke up on a hospital bed in the same room as a elderly woman with a beard. Her beard looked very soft and I wanted to touch it.

Until she ripped her skin off and revealed herself to be one of those cursed Poodles.

I woke up again in the same hospital bed and I saw that same lady again. Only, this time, it wasn't a lady. It was my brother.

"Mr. Fettel? You're awake! Good!" Oh boy, Dr. Tubular. NASA sure was lucky to have a man who looked exactly like a male Poison Ivy. He made my one testicle burn in ecstacy. He was beautiful and I totally wanted to bang him.

Like, he even had the plants and everything! Really sexy. Oh, how I wish I was a botanist.

"Your tests came back positive. You're pregnant!"

My eyes lit up. My one true dream had finally come true.

"And... who is the father?" I asked, growing impatient. Dr. Tubular ran his fingers through his gorgeous red hair.

Oh man, I just don't know what I'd do if he wasn't my doctor.

He looked me dead in the eye, and the next words to come out of his mouth shocked me to the point of pooting again.

"Lord Farquaad."

**_TO BE CONTINUED?_**


End file.
